


It's Always Budapest

by DizzyDrea



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Romance, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks there isn't time enough in the world to gain the right perspective on having had fuck-or-die sex with Captain America, but she appreciates the thought. She only wishes it didn't feel as hollow as it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always Budapest

**Author's Note:**

> It took me three tries to get this written. See the end notes for the reason why.
> 
> For the _fuck-or-die_ square on my Trope Bingo card.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Avengers and all its particulars are the property of Marvel Studios, Walt Disney Studios, Joss Whedon, and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Maria Hill’s senses are full of him: his smell, his taste, warm skin under her hands, hot breath in her ear. The delicious slide of him inside her is almost more than she can handle, hitting that spot deep within over and over and over. He’s huge—because _of course_ he’s huge—which only adds to the friction. The bulk of his body is pressing her into the wall, the thin fabric of her t-shirt the only thing between her and the brick behind her, but it’s as though she weighs nothing, that’s how easily he’s holding her up.

Steve Rogers. Captain America.

She groans. Through the fog enveloping her mind, one thought rises to the surface: she’s despoiling a national treasure.

His chuckle resonates against her skin. "You do know I was in the Army, right?"

"I’m trying not to think about it," she says, canting her hips and oh god, "right there, right there, _please_ …"

His hips stutter, then press in tighter as she digs her heels into his ass. She runs her hands over his shoulders, the fabric of his uniform shirt soft under her fingers. She can feel the flex and release of his muscles, coiled power being held back by sheer force of will. Her hands journey up to tangle in his hair, what there is of it, and she curls her fingers, scratching his scalp in time to his thrusts. 

He arches into her touch like a cat, pushing her up higher against the wall and pressing himself in deeper still. 

"Not gonna last much longer," he grinds out.

He's kissing over her skin, nibbling at the sensitive skin just under her jaw before taking her mouth in a searing kiss that causes her toes to curl. One thing is for sure: Steve knows how to kiss.

"Do it," she hisses when he pulls back, panting for breath. 

Truthfully, she's not going to last much longer, either. She doesn't know whether to be glad or disappointed it's almost over. She does know she won't ever be able to look at him the same way again.

She only wishes she knew how she felt about _that_.

His strokes increase, his hips snapping into her faster and faster. The burn under her skin ignites, sending waves of fire across her nerves. Just when she thinks she can't take any more, the tension snaps and her orgasm rolls through her in unrelenting waves. He goes still above her, groaning as he presses his lips into her neck, riding out his own orgasm.

They wind up in a heap on the concrete floor, neither of their legs able to support them, both breathing hard as they try to pull themselves together. She watches Steve crawl over to collapse against the wall, eyes closed and his thoughts very much his own. Maria shakes her head, still unsure how they got here, and how the hell she's going to explain this in her report.

~o~

The intelligence says that the basement of the warehouse holds an AIM research facility. When they arrive, it's pretty clear that the facility has been abandoned for some time. Still, Maria and Steve lead the Strike Team through, clearing rooms and taking a cursory inventory of what's left and whether or not they'll need a containment team to come shut the place down.

She sends Rumlow to the control room to assess the containment protocols in the facility. Even though it doesn't look like anyone's been using this place for months, she doesn't want to take any chances, just in case. Meanwhile, the rest of the team fans out and continues to clear rooms one at a time.

She and Steve split off from the group, heading down a side corridor. They clear a storage closet and what looks like an office before coming to another lab. Maria follows Steve through the door, her gun raised even though it's obvious no one's there. There's a fine layer of dust on everything: microscopes and test tubes and storage cabinets.

"Looks like they were in a hurry," Steve comments as he wanders through the room. "Any idea what they were working on?"

Maria shakes her head. "No idea, but it can't have been good. All the sources I talked to would only confirm the existence of the lab. None of them would tell me what AIM was doing here."

"Chemical weapons, maybe?" Steve asks as he peers down a microscope at whatever was left on the slide.

"Let's hope not," Maria says, cringing. She sighs as she looks around. There's not much to see, and she's not a scientist anyway. They'll probably have to bring in a team to make sure nothing that's left is dangerous. "Come on," she says, "let's finish clearing this corridor."

Her hip bumps the center workbench on the way out, and her head whips around at the sound of breaking glass. The small cloud kicked up by the damage dissipates quickly, and she thinks maybe she's dodged a bullet, but then the alarms start blaring and the door's lock clicks into place.

She can feel her heart rate kicking up; she's hoping it's just the adrenaline and not some chemical agent they have no antidote for. 

"Agent Hill!"

Rumlow's voice sounds—not quite panicked, but close—as he's shouting through the comms. "We're fine," she says, even though she kind of thinks they're anything but. "We're in 3G. Something fell off the lab table."

"Guess we know the containment protocols still work," Rumow says. 

Maria's grateful he's not freaking out, even as she feels her skin begin to crawl. Suddenly, her tac suit feels far too warm, the material too scratchy against her skin. She glances at Steve and finds him tugging at his collar. That causes her concern to tick up a notch. She isn't surprised she's being affected by whatever it is, but the fact that the Serum isn't protecting Steve isn't a good sign.

"See if you can find anything on what they were researching in here," she says, as much to Rumlow as to Steve.

There aren't any computers in sight, but there's a desk with papers strewn across it. She heads for the desk while Steve takes the filing cabinet. There's silence as they work, which is good, because she's having trouble concentrating as it is; idle chatter might just be too much for her strung-out nerves.

"Well, the good news is that lab is isolated from the rest of the ventilation system in the facility," Rumlow says several minutes later. "There are some pretty heavy-duty air scrubbers in place; they switched on the second the lab went on lockdown."

"So, whatever it is won't spread to the rest of the facility," Maria says. She's relieved that no one else will be exposed, but that means that she and Steve will be stuck in the room until the air is clear. "What's the bad news?"

"There's no way to break the seal on the room until the air's clear."

Which she'd kind of already guessed. Not terrible news, but if the antidote to whatever they've been exposed to is outside, that might not be good.

"What's the ETA?"

"No idea," Rumlow says. "The equipment in here isn't in the best shape."

"Great," she mutters.

"I think I've got something," Steve says. He's holding a file, and the look on his face isn't encouraging.

She pops the clasp on her jacket and tugs the zipper down as she joins him by the cabinet.

"Looks like they were researching neurotoxins," he says. "Apparently, the path they were going down lead to some – unusual results."

Maria leans around him to read the research notes. Her eyebrows climb to her hairline. "You have got to be kidding me!"

Steve blushes. "Apparently not. The toxin they ended up with caused the subjects to become… overheated. Seems like the only way to keep them from burning up was—"

"Don't say it," she says, holding up a hand as she takes a few steps away. She can feel her skin crawling, the need to do something building just under the surface. She ignores it. "Just—don't say it."

"Not saying it won't make it any less true."

And damn him for being so reasonable about all this. "How can you be so calm?"

Steve shrugs. "I fought against Hydra during the war. Not the strangest thing I've ever come up against."

"Right," Maria says on a sigh. Right about now she's wishing Fury hadn't insisted she accompany the Strike Team on this mission. But it had been her mission brief, so she'd agreed to go. And, as Fury put it, she needs to get out more. If this is what happens when she gets out, she'll tell Fury to shove it next time he tells her to go. She turns to face Steve and looks at him with a gimlet eye. If he's at all bothered by this turn of events, he's not showing it. "So, how do we do this?"

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know about you, but I took sex ed in school. I could draw you a diagram, if you think it'll help."

"Sass?" she asks incredulously. "You're sassing me?"

He shrugs again. "Is it working?"

She shakes her head, letting out a gusty sigh. She's burning up, time ticking away and no other solution presenting itself except having sex with Captain America. How is this her life?

"Rumlow, how much of that did you get?" she asks, dread pooling in her gut.

There's a pause, then a sigh. "All of it."

"Fine," she mutters tightly. "We're going off comms. Secure the rest of the facility and wait for me to contact you."

"Yes, ma'am," Rumlow says, though she can tell he's none too happy about it.

She hears the click of the comms being turned off. There's dead silence in the room except the sound of the industrial air scrubbers doing their job. She meets Steve's eye, raising one elegant eyebrow.

This should be… interesting.

~o~

Their clothes are mostly on when the locks on the lab disengage. Maria opens the door to find Rumlow leaning against the wall opposite the door, arms crossed, his head turned toward the end of the corridor.

"Rumlow, report," she barks, glad to have something to focus on that isn't—no, she's not going to go there, can't afford to go there until later. Much later.

"We've cleared the facility and the containment team is en-route. The Hungarians aren't happy that AIM was doing this kind of research right under their noses, but they're more than happy to let us clean it up. Our transport is gassed up and ready to go; wheels up as soon as we arrive at the airstrip."

"Good," she says. She fucking _hates_ Budapest, for so many reasons. This is just one more.

"I've got medics on standby," Rumlow says. Maria rolls her eyes, but apparently he's not going to budge on this. "You're going to get checked out—both of you—before we leave."

She doesn't say anything, just heads down the corridor towards the exit. Once she reaches the street, she takes a deep breath of fresh air, closing her eyes as she attempts to put the events of this mission into a box in the back of her mind.

"You okay?" Steve asks. He's standing close but not too close, and she feels guilty for being glad of the distance.

She ghosts a smile. "I'm fine, Captain."

If he's affected at all by her use of his title, he doesn't show it. He simply nods and says, "Glad to hear it, Agent Hill."

He doesn't say anything else, just turns and walks over to where the containment team is getting set up. She watches as he tells the team leads what to expect inside. It should be her job, as the senior agent on the mission, but he's stepped in and taken over seamlessly, allowing her the time to put some distance and perspective on what happened to them.

She thinks there isn't time enough in the world to gain the right perspective on having had fuck-or-die sex with Captain America, but she appreciates the thought. She only wishes it didn't feel as hollow as it does.

~Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I swear it shouldn't be this hard to write sex and Steve Rogers in the same story, but it literally took me three tries to get this written. Maria's line about despoiling a national treasure is the entire reason why I stuck with it; I loved the line too much to give up. And probably the reason why it took me three tries. Apologies to Budapest. I imagine it's a lovely city; I've never been, but the joke was too good to pass up.


End file.
